Spring Rest
Lay me not in the gloomy ground,
Not underneath the green grave-mound!
But oh, if buried I must be,
Down in the deep grass bury me!
In grass and flowers I fain would lie,
With a low flute-tone wailing by,
And the bright spring-clouds overhead
Sailing along, — there make my bed.
Not underneath the green grave-mound!
But oh, if buried I must be,
Down in the deep grass bury me!
In grass and flowers I fain would lie,
With a low flute-tone wailing by,
And the bright spring-clouds overhead
Sailing along, — there make my bed.
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